


a thousand words (all for you)

by keycchan



Series: dust to dust [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 11:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keycchan/pseuds/keycchan
Summary: Deacon has a thousand words to spare for every situation. Nick recounts a few favourites, and some, not so much.prompt: things you said before you kissed me.





	a thousand words (all for you)

**Author's Note:**

> yet another prompt request! requested by [waggs.](http://johnandrasjaqobis.tumblr.com/) find the [original prompt here.](http://keycchan.tumblr.com/post/161263696230/prompts-1-things-you-said-at-1-am-2-things)
> 
> an actual short fic this time! (but i have two more requests for nick/deacon, so we'll see that sometime soon.)
> 
> everytime someone leaves a comment and a kudos, the coolness level of that person increases. it's true.

Deacon talks a lot. No surprise there. He speaks like he’s going to run out of words  _yesterday_ ; banters like there’s no tomorrow, witty anecdotes left, right and centre. For a guy so bent on keepin’ secrets, Nick’s almost amused with the irony of Deacon’s character: the man has his shoelaces hacked at the ends so he’s practically soundless when he moves, but yet he has a billion and one stories about  _anything_ , from yao guai to how to cook cram proper. It’s downright amusing, is what it is.

No exceptions, not even when Deacon kisses him. Or just about to. Something calming about the banter, anyway, when the man speaks, all wit and humour, hardy-har, right before they kiss. It’s something endearing, something Nick’s grown fond of, over the years they’ve been together. Makes him remember just the kind of man he’s fallen in love with, each time, and he’s always grateful.

 _You a hard-boiled enough detective or do I get to make you harder?_ , Deacon likes to say in the morning, when Nick’s dressing up to head out for the day, and he pulls Nick closer by the tie looped around his neck, all smirks and wagglin’ brows.  _After this is over, I’m gonna tell you this really funny story about my nanna and her fatman launcher_ , Deacon had once managed while they were ducking behind concrete, shot at by raiders, one kiss and a crazy little line before the man had chucked a frag at the offenders.

On happy days, after a successful run or a new safehouse cleared, Deacon says  _you’re my favourite thing, Nick_ , grins like his smile’s the sun shining bright like a sunrise, and Nick adores these times, not for the words stroking his ego, but from the sheer happiness that radiates off of Deacon, the arms shamelessly hooked over Nick’s shoulders, bringing him down to kiss, tasting like nothing wrong in the world, when Nick replies after,  _the most precious, you, my darlin’._

Other times, it’s a little quieter. Nights where the guilt weighs too much on the man’s mind, keeps him up and the crying as quiet as his footsteps, and Nick’s the only one awake to see it. Those nights are heartbreaking, makes Nick’s soul ache for him, his mechanical heart whirring, and Nick holds Deacon close ‘til the memories subside, ‘til the hurt fades for the moment.  _I don’t deserve you, Valentine,_  Deacon mouths against Nick’s collar, peers up with a strangled smile and the saddest damn eyes Nick’s seen in two hundred years, kissing Nick before Nick replies,  _I could say the same ‘bout you, always._ Those times are alright, too. Sad, but honest and sincere. Good to be in each other’s company, through the worst times, and the best.

Not to say that there aren’t moments where Nick’s not quite so fond of Deacon’s words, right before they kiss. His least favourite moment especially, from the day before; and not from annoyance, he could never, he’d never hate Deacon. But there’s just something so  _heartbreaking_ , makes Nick heavy with guilt, watching Deacon sprint over to him, stumbling and shouting, after the supermutant went down, and Nick could feel his coolant leaking everywhere, systems beginning to rapidly overheat.  _Ain’t that gonna be just a pain to fix up_ , Nick remembers thinking, vision starting to glitch as Deacon dropped to his knees, held him up by the torso, a real feat considering Nick didn’t have the arms to help with that after the mutant had torn them right out, and Nick’s made of metal.

No, nothing good feeling about Deacon holding him up, voice sounding wet,  _hold on, Nick, don’t you dare go out on me, don’t you fucking dare Valentine, don’t you leave me too, just hold on,_  and Nick didn’t,  _couldn’t_  get any sense of happiness from that, not with the desperate presses of Deacon’s mouth against the corners of his, voice getting higher and reedier when the same mouth comes away with leaked coolant staining the sides.  _Ain’t healthy for you to ingest that, sweetheart,_  Nick wanted to say, but his systems were already failing.

Everything after that was dark. Doesn’t remember a damned thing that happened, only knows now, this, as his eyes suddenly flicker back online and his vision recalibrates: he’s back in Diamond City, his arms are back, his system has been repaired and rebooted, and Lamb and Deacon look both like they’re on the verge of crying.  _Don’t look like that, darlin’,_  Nick finds himself saying.  _Or your face’s gonna get stuck like that._

And then there’s wet, ugly laughter from Lamb, who kindly introduces him to her middle finger, and Nick finds himself grinning, especially when Deacon surges forward and hugs Nick like the sheer strength of it alone will hold him together. Arturo stands looking more than a little proud, at the side of the room, and Nick’s notes to himself that he owes the man a few drinks, probably, and maybe a nice dinner at the Taphouse. Even more when Arturo kindly leads Lamb out of the room, to give him and Deacon some privacy.

 _You’re a goddamned idiot, Nick, you’re gonna give me a heart attack and I’m not old enough for that just yet_ , Deacon murmurs harsh and wet into his neck, and no, there’s still the sense of guilt that comes with it, but Nick will take it, will take it a thousand times over, will take it any day over the desperate, strangled words that came while Deacon thought Nick lay dying.  _Just you wait, one of these days I’m gonna have five heart attacks at once ‘cause of you, and I’m gonna throw Sun’s bill over to your agency, you heartless bastard._

Nick has to laugh, then. Has to, feels even better when he feels and hears Deacon laughing along, shoulders shaking and shaking and Nick’s glad to be alive, grateful, if only just to hear it again. Grateful, so he can cup Deacon’s jaw (and what a fine job Arturo’s done on reattaching his arms, that couldn’tve been an easy feat) and stroke his cheek, so he can say  _not goin’ anywhere anytime soon, sweetheart,_ so he can say _won’t ever leave you like that, not if I can help it, not ever,_ so he can say, most of all; _I love you._

And more than that. More than that, it’s so he can hear Deacon say Nick’s favourite thing, his favourite words, right before they kiss;  _I love you too._


End file.
